Unmake, Remake
by Key the Metal Idol
Summary: Preventing the crash has wider effect through time than Jack could have imagined.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N:** Assumes a complete reset after the bomb. For **emiligia**, at **lostsquee's** Luau

* * *

For a long time everything seemed to be a white nothing. Slowly, the sound of waves crept into his ears. Then the sensation of sand, wet and grainy beneath his back. Finally, his eyes opened, staring into a familiar blue sky he had hoped to never see again.

"Guess it didn't work," Jack rasped.

"Oh, but it did, Jack. Lucky for me."

Jack turned his head towards the strangely familiar voice, blinking at a blond man standing near the base of an enormous statue. He walked over to Jack.

"Not so lucky, however, for you," he said, sitting down on the sand.

"Do I know you?" Jack tried to place his face.

"We've met briefly once before, and I do mean _before_. I'm Jacob."

_Jacob?_ Jack sat up, shaking his head, _John and the Others' Jacob?_

The man smiled as if he'd heard the thought, "The problem with changing the timeline, is that everything is connected. Pull out the wrong thread, and everything unravels."

Fear flashed across Jack's face, "What happened to everyone else? Are they okay?"

"That's just it. Nothing that came from Oceanic 815 crashing ever happened. That spans a lot of history, Jack. Your friends never traveled in time to meet Richard Alpert, Benjamin Linus was never shot, nor was Daniel Faraday for that matter. They'll live their lives and sometimes make different choices. But the reason you aren't out _there_, equally unaware of any of this, is that your parents never met, and you were never born."

Jack bit his lip, thinking, "I... If all that's true, why am I here now?"

"_I_ was never killed, Jack, because of what you did. That should merit some action on my part, though I loathe to interfere so directly. I would hate to be so...ungrateful," Jacob rested a hand on Jack's shoulder for a moment, then pulled a canteen from his pocket and took a drink. "Water?"

Dazed, Jack took it and drank deeply, he was thirstier than he'd thought. He closed it and passed the canteen back to Jacob. "And now what will I do?"

"Choices run towards the infinite Jack, but if you don't mind suggestions..." Jacob lay back on the sand, resting his head on his hands behind him. "It's a big island, you're free to set up anywhere you'd like--Richard would see that you're left alone. For that matter, if you'd like, I'm sure Richard would be happy to have you with them."

Jack had a vaguely horrified expression, and Jacob laughed.

"No? Bad memories I guess. How about this?" Jacob pulled a coin seemingly out of the air, like a stage magician. He held it out and dropped it in Jack's palm.

"What's this?" Jack prodded the copper colored coin with his fingers.

"A penny, the rare kind you don't find everyday. In about two hours though, a girl in Atlanta is going to walk by this coin. Maybe she'll only look at it, maybe she'll pass it by completely, and _just maybe_, she'll pick it up. But you see, somebody has to drop that coin on that particular sidewalk. _Somebody_ could be you Jack, if you choose it," Jacob was looking at him intently. "Though I must admit, it's not all pennies and sidewalks."

Despite everything that had happened to him, Jack couldn't turn down the chance to help someone, even if it was only a _chance._ And there was just _something_ about Jacob..."I think I'd like that."

"I'd hoped," Jacob smiled at him and stood up, brushing away errant particles of sand. "Come on, Jack. You've got quite a way to go."


	2. Rerun, Revenge

**A/N:** For **invisiblelove **at **lostsquee's **Luau. Some Jack and Sawyer interaction, post island reset.

* * *

"If my foot gets run over one more time..." Sawyer cursed under his breath. Of course the day he'd decided to live it up a little in a nice hotel, he'd ended up in the middle of a cripple convention. He gripped the handle of his luggage a little tighter, visualizing the cash inside, and taking consolation from another job well done.

Narrowly avoiding another wheelchair, Sawyer'd begun contemplating investing some of his hard won capital in steel-toed boots when he was knocked flat by a man in a business suit, papers flying out from his briefcase in every direction.

"I'm so sorry! Are you alright?" He looked over at Sawyer as he haphazardly tried to stuff the papers back where they belonged.

"Yeah. Better to be knocked over than run down, I suppose." Scowling, Sawyer got back to his feet, holding a couple of the papers in one hand. _Consolation prize_, he told himself, walking away and leaving the man to his task.

Sawyer took the elevator nearly to the top and walked down the hall to his room as quickly as he could without giving the impression he was in an actual hurry. He unlocked the door and tossed his suitcase on the bed.

"Probably some fundraiser for the hobble James Ford foundation," he told the empty room as he sat down at the desk to go over his latest acquisition.

It looked something like a police report, or judging from the letterhead, maybe from a fancy private detective agency.

Name: Anthony Cooper

Occupation: Retired

Family: John Locke - son

Known Aliases: Ted MacLaren, Adam Seward, Louis Jackson, Tom Sawyer

Last Known Residence: Tustin, California

"What?" Sawyer's eyes darted back and froze. _Tom Sawyer. There was no way..._

He flipped through the pages frantically—kidney transplant, the attempted murder of his own son, past arrests and not many convictions. On the second to last page a photo had been pasted onto the back, and Sawyer memorized the face of an old man. After all this time, he'd found him. Someone had anyway, Sawyer only had part of the report.

"The rest of it's got to be with briefcase guy," he mused. He'd call them, ask if he could return something to their man at the hotel. If things got violent later, well, he'd made more than one fast escape. Sawyer turned back to the front page to look at the letterhead.

Service Sobek Inc.

(481) 516-2342

Sawyer managed to sweet talk the lady on the phone into setting up a meeting for the two men at the hotel bar in about a hour. He got there a half hour early and glared at anyone that walked (or wheeled) in his direction. At an hour on the dot the man Sawyer was waiting for approached his booth.

"So what's your name, jack?" He tried to look as disinterested in the answer as he could manage.

"That is my name...Jack. Jack Shephard," he radiated barely suppressed amusement as he slid in to the opposite seat. "They called me and said you had something I'd lost?"

"Yeah, about that. You bring the rest of those papers with you?" Sawyer leaned forward, impatient with waiting.

"I just finished arguing with the guy I delivered them to. I told him we could get replacements sent, but he wasn't listening to anything I tried to tell him," Jack shook his head ruefully. "I'm just a courier, getting mad at me won't help anything."

Sawyer could feel a vein in his forehead throbbing, he tried to keep his voice level, "Well, why don't you tell me who you handed them off to? I'll go complete the collection."

"Sorry, it's supposed to be confidential. So if you could just--" Jack was grabbed and pulled roughly forward until they were nose to nose over the table.

"You listen here, buddy. I want a name and a room number _now_, or I'm gonna make you wish you were never born," Sawyer said, and meant it.

Jack didn't seem to feel threatened however--in fact he broke out into hysterical laughter. Unnerved, Sawyer let go, tossing him backwards into his seat.

"J-John L-Locke, ha-ha-ha-ha, r-room one o-oh e-eight, ha-ha-ha..." Jack was nearly in tears, but he couldn't stop. Sawyer walked away disgusted, but hoped the front desk could send him to the right place.

"It's not really that funny," a contradictorily amused voice said from behind Jack.

"If he'd said anything else--" Jack gasped, still shaking with laughter.

"Rum and coke, minus the rum," Jacob sat down across from Jack, slid a glass over to him, then placed one in front of himself.

"P-probably for the best," Jack took a breath and steadied himself before taking a drink.

"Had an interesting day, I see," Jacob sipped his drink, watching Jack closely.

"Yeah. I knew it would be harder than usual, seeing them both. I knew they would be different, John especially." Jack massaged the bridge of his nose with his fingers, remembering the stubborn man stuck in a wheelchair, "He's still infuriating, just in a different way. I hope they don't kill each other."

"Maybe they will, maybe they won't. You know how it goes," he said mildly.

"It depends. Like in Atlanta when you told me to find that girl on Peachtree. Do you know how many Peachtree's there are in Atlanta?" Jack complained.

Jacob nodded, "Seventy-one."

Jack only sighed. "Nevermind."


	3. Vacation, Variation

**A/N:** For **joyyjpg **at **lostsquee** 's Luau.

* * *

Jack knew when he took the job it wouldn't be easy, but that if he was lucky the good things would make the bad worthwhile. The past few jobs had very definitely run towards the bad.

Offering food to a starving girl so she could feed her family seemed straightforwardly good. A small amount of rice, which split four ways would have allowed all of them to survive until help came. Unfortunately, the young girl was greedy and as soon as the food was in her possession, she'd devoured the lot of it. Having been without solids for so long her stomach revolted, and she vomited every last bit of it out into the dust. The entire family died, her one day ahead of the others.

Jacob said it wasn't all _pennies_, and well, the _gun_ had been trouble from the start. It had only been picked up off the ground and bullets were flying. Jack saw on the news that evening that there had been the largest amount of casualties in gang related warfare since they'd started keeping statistics. Pushing someone doesn't mean they'll go the right direction, and sometimes the only way to win was not to play.

Jack had been stuck in a understandably horrible mood, so Jacob told him he could take some time for himself if he needed.

On the Island.

Jack wondered if maybe he could cause a couple hurricanes, or a tsunami instead.

So, Jack was back on the beach. Just him, his water bottle, and a mystery box from Jacob he wasn't sure if he would open.

Hearing rustling from the jungle behind him, Jack turned to see a familiar face. It seemed Jack wouldn't be alone for long.

"Hello, Richard," he called out, causing the man to pause momentarily in confusion.

Richard continued closer, stopping in front of Jack and examining him cautiously, "Are you Jack Shephard?"

"Do I want to know what he told you about me?" Jack asked a little amused, then motioned for him to sit down.

Richard sat somewhat reluctantly, "Jacob only said that you were from somewhere people and places had been different, and that no one should be alarmed about outsiders if you were seen."

"Oh. Well, you don't seem much different to me. Maybe less irritated, but it probably helps that you don't have to worry about me blowing up the island this time," Jack took a drink from his bottle.

"That might make a difference," Richard conceded, looking disturbed.

"Did Jacob happen to mention to you what was in this box? I have to admit, I've been afraid to open it, with my luck as it's been lately," Jack rapped on the lid with his knuckles, half expecting something inside to knock back.

"I haven't seen him in a while, actually. I came to check some of the shellfish traps in the water," Richard sent a speculative look at the box. "May I take a look?"

"Be my guest," Jack braced himself as Richard reached over to open the lid.

"Lomelino Madeira Quinta da Paz, 1845," Richard rolled off of his tongue with something bordering on reverence.

"Pardon?" Jack tilted his head to get a better look.

"Very rare vintage of wine," Richard reached inside to pull out the bottle, only to draw back sharply with a gasp. Wincing, he shook his hand trying to wave away the pain, "Seems I won't have to check the crab trap after all."

With the top of the box resting on the sand, Jack could see the interior better. Aside from the surly crab and the bottle of wine, there were vegetables, glasses, plates, and a cooking pot.

"Staying for dinner?" Jack watched Richard, who was reaching for the wine by the cork this time.

"If you're serving crab," Richard shot an annoyed glance in it's direction.

Jack smiled, quickly reaching in and tipping the pot over, trapping the crab inside. He put one hand on the pot to keep it still, taking out the rest of the supplies with his free hand.

The pot wiggled back and forth under Jack's hand, "Can you start a fire, Richard? I don't want him loose."

After Richard got the fire burning, Jack flipped the box over, crab settling in the bottom of the pot. He sacrificed the rest of his water to cover the crab, covering the top with a plate. They drank in companionable silence, crab cooking fast in boiling water.

When it was done, Richard cracked the crab's shell by hand, pulling out chunks of meat completely whole. The meat went on top of the vegetables which had been shredded into a haphazard salad.

Regrettably, Richard had to leave after they had eaten since the sun was setting. There were things on the island that even he was wary of confronting, especially in the dark. Jack gave him the bottle as a souvenir, and they shook hands, parting with a silent understanding.


	4. Lottery, Library

**A/N: **More Jack **f**or alliecat8 at lostsquee's Luau, now that I stopped being distracted by shiny things long enough to finish it! Longer than the other chapters.

* * *

Generally, chasing a white rabbit was a metaphor for something else. The Island had apparently decided Jack was due a little literalism.

"Stop her! Stop...!"

Jack picked up a wooden box—it was good enough for a crab, the rabbit could make do—and jumped forward, sliding on the sand but trapping the rabbit inside. It took Jack a moment to place the man chasing the rabbit, since Benjamin Linus looked years younger than Jack had ever seen him as an adult.

"I just sat the bag down for a second and Boudicca hopped off—I was afraid I'd never catch her," Ben reached under the box, grabbed the rabbit and stuffed it into his satchel. "Thank you...are...are you Jacob?" Ben nervously clutched the strap on his bag.

"Definitely not. I work for him though—I'm Jack Shephard." _He's more timid than the rabbit_, Jack thought.

"Ben! Ben!" Richard yelled from inside the jungle.

Jack watched Ben grimace, then mutter to himself, "He treats me like a five year old."

_Probably because you act like one_, "Well, aren't you going to tell him you're here?"

Ben sighed, then called out, "Over here!"

An irritated Richard emerged from the foliage, glaring at Ben, "Why did you bring the rabbit anyway?"

"I couldn't just leave her behind—Danny said he would eat her!" Ben defended.

Jack cleared his throat to get their attention, "Sorry to interrupt, but are you only here about the rabbit? I've got to be going soon—"

"—which is why I asked Richard to bring Benjamin with him, Jack," Jacob walked out from behind Jack, startling all three of them.

"What do you mean?" Jack eyed Jacob suspiciously.

"Benjamin wants to get new books for the children, he'll need to go off the Island to do it," Jacob sat down, using the wooden box for a seat.

Richard seemed ready to protest, when Ben spoke, "I never gave Richard the letter I wrote about the books—how did you know?"

"The same way I know that you asked Jack if he was me," Jacob smiled.

"Jacob, we've talked about this, I don't know if he's ready for the responsibility--" Richard began.

Jacob cut him off, "_This_ isn't your decision to make, Richard."

Ben looked back and forth between them, bewildered, "What's the problem? I haven't been off the Island in a long time, but I'm sure I can do it."

"Do you remember the first time you met Richard, Benjamin?" Jacob asked.

"I followed my mother to the boundary, and she disappeared... then I saw Richard," he recalled, wondering why Jacob wanted to know.

"Richard came to me after that. Seeing her made you special Benjamin, you were to take Eloise's place one day," Jacob said, though Richard looked more alarmed with every syllable.

"But...Eloise has been gone for years. Richard said it wasn't time for a new leader yet," Ben gave Richard a suspicious look.

Richard tried to placate him, "I didn't want you to have to deal with the pressure of leadership on top of everything else. I just think you should give it more time, Ben."

"I'm not a kid anymore! How much more time is there? Not all of us have stopped aging, Richard," Ben responded bitterly.

Jack watched them argue with open curiosity. He knew that Ben hadn't been shot by Sayid, since none of that had ever happened except in his memory. How had Ben still ended up with the Others?

"Benjamin, you can fight with Richard later if you have a mind to. I need to know if you want to go with Jack—leaving this place is a time sensitive operation," Jacob blocked Richard from making another objection.

"I... If somebody can take care of Boudicca for me, I'm ready to go," Ben's eyes darted from Jacob to Jack, avoiding Richard altogether.

Jacob handed Ben a fortune cookie wrapped in cellophane, "Pass that over to Jack would you?"

Ben scrunched his nose up at the odd instruction, but did it anyway. Jack reached out to take it and as the plastic touched his fingers, they had been transported to another place.

"Where are we?" Ben asked as he patted his satchel, finding it bunny-less.

"Santa Monica. We need to go," Jack motioned to a Chinese restaurant, " in there. I've got something to take care of before we get your books," at least Jack assumed that was what Jacob had in mind.

If Ben had ever been inside a Chinese restaurant, he didn't remember it. He wandered inside following Jack, still dazed from their sudden travel. Ben stared at everything—the people, the decorations, the unfamiliar food.

"Ben?" Jack tried to get his attention, but Ben was staring at an overblown painting of a dragon. Jack put a hand on Ben's shoulder to get his attention, and he jumped at the touch.

"W-What?" Ben pulled back as if he'd been burned.

Jack inclined his head towards an impatient hostess holding a pair of menus in her hands, "We've got to get to our table, come on."

Ben followed reluctantly, sat down across from Jack, and took a menu from the hostess who seemed to want to be anywhere else but at their table. Jack ordered hot tea for them both, and left Ben to figure out the menu on his own. He'd read about plenty of these things, and had vague recollection of a few from the DHARMA cafeteria. Ben decided he would order a soup and an entree, hoping he'd at least find one palatable.

After the waitress took their orders, there was an uneasy silence between them. Jack had held off as long as he could, "What's the deal with you and Richard...uh, if you don't mind me asking."

Ben squirmed in his seat. It wasn't something he wanted to talk about, but Jacob had sent him here with Jack, and if Ben couldn't trust Jacob he couldn't trust anyone. "I had met Richard before, but I wasn't supposed to leave the DHARMA people yet. One day Richard was checking the boundary lines to make sure nobody had crossed where they weren't allowed. He found me across the line, I was hurt pretty badly."

"Did you fall or something?" Jack could picture a smaller Ben climbing the pylons pretty easily.

Ben gave a humorless laugh, "On my Father's fist, repeatedly." Jack blanched and Ben resumed his story, "Dad was so drunk he thought he'd killed me, so he dragged me to a spot in the fence he had an override code for and left me there. I heard a couple years later he killed himself, but forgive me if I'm not all that sympathetic." Ben sipped his tea, "Anyway, Richard. Charles Widmore made it no secret he didn't want me there when Richard brought me back, which wouldn't have mattered if he hadn't been sleeping with Eloise. I think Richard felt guilty or something, because he completely blew up at Charles. He said he'd adopt me if that was what it took, and no matter how Charles plotted he'd never be the leader—despite what Eloise said. He's been extremely overprotective ever since."

Jack was glad for the respite of the waitress delivering food to the table. He'd wanted to know, and now he didn't know what to say to Ben. _Hey, at least you aren't a sociopathic murderer?_ That might not go down well. Jack watched Ben cautiously sample the spicy pork dish he'd ordered, and tried not to laugh when he downed three entire cups of tea to stop the burning, then resume eating as if nothing had happened.

Jack attempted to find a safe topic, "What do you do if you aren't in charge of the Others?"

"Others?" Ben gave Jack a blank look, "My people, I guess you mean. I teach English, Latin, and Literature. Education is important, Jack, especially when you're as isolated as we are."

Jack could imagine Ben hovering impatiently over some hapless student, "Is that why you were after books?"

"Mostly, yes. The tropical climate is especially terrible on glue bound books—the ones DHARMA had are all falling apart." Ben switched over to his egg drop soup, "I repair the ones I can, but there haven't been enough to go around in a long time."

Jack nodded and turned to his own plate of spicy noodles, "Do you want to be the leader, or would you rather keep teaching?"

"I'd like to do both, but I don't know how everyone will take me being in charge. Richard means well, but most of them probably think I'm incompetent since he won't let me do anything," Ben frowned into his bowl.

"I don't know what to tell you, Ben. My leadership experience hasn't been good for me or anyone else," Jack tried to rein in his self-loathing.

"But, you work for Jacob, right?" Ben asked.

"I do now--I used to be a doctor. My life from before is gone." _Never existed, if you wanted to be technical about it. "_I like to think I'm good at what I do, but ultimately the choices are with other people, and I'm happier for it."

"What exactly do you do though?" Ben asked.

Jack smiled at him, "Well, you'll get to see soon enough. Finish your dinner, people are starving in other countries."

Ben rolled his eyes at Jack but did what he was told. Jack kept looking at his watch, Ben guessed he was waiting for the bill, but when the waitress brought it along with some fortune cookies, Jack ignored them and looked down the aisle impatiently. Ben opened his fortune cookie:

_**Opportunity is knocking at your front door. **_

_Lucky Numbers: 3, 7, 12, 17, 26, 48_

Ben scowled down at the paper—he didn't have a front door, he had a tent flap. He almost missed Jack getting up, but Ben caught the motion from the corner of his eye. Jack stumbled out in front of the largest man Ben had ever seen.

"Come on, dude! Watch where you're goin', I almost lost my Tso's!" He shifted the take out containers to his other hand.

"I'm sorry about that. Oh, wait a second, you dropped a fortune cookie," Jack handed the man the fortune cookie he'd gotten from Jacob.

"I'm not really mad or nothin', I just don't want to make Libby wait. Thanks, dude," he waved his free hand as he headed to the exit.

"No problem, Hurley," Jack whispered as soon as he was out of earshot.

"What was that about?" Ben asked, baffled.

"Just doing my job," Jack gave him a halfhearted smile. "If you're done I'll pay for this, and we can go get your books."

Ben was feeling more lost than ever, but he felt a little better when they got to the bookstore. They hadn't been given any limitations, so Jack told him to get anything he wanted. Ben intended to take shameless advantage of this, as he doubted he'd have an opportunity like it again any time soon.

As the books piled up, Jack wondered if he should have given Ben a limit of some kind. He didn't know how they'd get it all to a hotel, let alone all the way to the Island. "Maybe we should just move the entire store," Jack said sarcastically as Ben returned yet again will another pile of books.

"Do you think we could?" Ben asked without a trace of irony.

A truck rental later, they drove to a hotel for the evening, and Ben only carried a single arm load inside for the night.

"Why is there luggage here? We didn't bring anything," Ben examined the one tagged with his name, and was surprised that it actually had his clothes inside.

"Don't you have reading to do?" Jack deflected, and left to shower and change clothes. He regretted saying so later, as Ben seemed to have decided he would read all night. Jack covered his head with a pillow to block out the light so he could get some sleep. It seemed like only minutes later he was roughly shaken awake, "What?"

"Jack, look! That guy's on television!" Ben pulled Jack over towards the TV.

Jack rubbed his eyes, that was Hurley all right, "Did you sleep at all?"

"Who cares? Hugo Reyes won $156 million by playing the numbers from a fortune cookie. That's a lot of books, Jack!" Ben said, exasperated.

"If you don't like the ones you have we can take them back," Jack replied mildly.

Ben wondered if you could develop high blood pressure in a single day off the Island, "That's not... Why did Jacob make you give that to him?"

"I didn't have to give it to him, I wanted to. He didn't have to play the numbers either, he wanted to. You wondered what I did for Jacob, well, this is it." Jack waited for another question, but Ben seemed to be stunned into silence. "If that was all, I'm going back to sleep," he crawled back beneath the covers and did so, leaving Ben to wonder what _he_ would have to do for Jacob.


End file.
